"Aw shit...gotta get up.." I quietly groaned and began to coax myself from bed. I looked to the digital clock at my side for a sleepy moment before recognizing the time to be of 2:06am. The room was a faded black, the only hint of twilight coming through the worn draperies of the dingy window. Slowly sliding away from the warm bed sheets, I groped about the floor until coming across my pants which had been thrown aside only hours ago. I then found my shirt and shoes, dressing myself as silently as possible in order to make my exit unheard. One last thing was needed before I left. Its silver handle flashed the initials "J.T.H" when I lifted the small hand gun from its box. I smiled contently as I held it. This had been my brother's gun. The same gun he died with, clutching to his chest. My heart became heavy at this thought, making me sigh the familiar breath I had so often. "Zac?" the bed suddenly stirred. I quickly tucked the gun into the waistband of my pants and then made my way over to her. "Let me come with you?" she asked softly, still lying in bed. I knelt beside her, taking her hands in mine and answering, "Not this time, Lynn. It's too dangerous for you." I saw her frown through the dim light. "I be done in a few hours, promise," I told her. She leaned up towards me, embracing me tightly and whispering, "Just come home safe to me." I held her for a moment before breaking away and leaving the house.

The street was nearly barren, an occasional car whizzing past and lossening the quiet. I walked along the trash filled sidewalk, my shirt hanging open at my sides and lightly blowing against my arms as I moved. A familiar outline came into view up ahead. It was Tony. His thin, pale figure stood at the corner smoking a cigarette, glancing over his shoulder and side to side at every new or sudden sound. "Keep walking," I told him as I passed, not slowing my pace for him. Tony continued looking around nervously while we travelled. "What the fuck's your problem?" I finally asked him. "Nothin' man..nothin'," he replied anxiously. "Where's Little Brown tonight?" I eyed him suspiciously at the question of my youngest brother, "...he's around." "What about Lynn?" Tony went on. I stopped and turned to him, my brow furrowed in annoyance, "What about her? Just mind your own goddamn business." This type of response was nothing new to him. He sighed and shifted his eyes to focus on the gun at my waist. He knew whose it was. "Look man, we're gonna find the bastard who did it. Kenny thinks this guy knows somethin' and we're gonna see what it is," he said, reassuringly. I looked down the street, feeling myself begin to choke up at the thought of my brother. "C'mon...let's keep goin'," I finally said.

It was a small building, grey in color with a vaccant parkinglot and metal fence surrounding it. Our shoes crunched noisily on the gravelled ground. The air inside was filled with the smells of stale cigarette smoke and cheap liquor. Everyone stopped in their place to acknowledge us when Tony and I entered. The pool table clatter and loud conversation came to a hault as well, all eyes looking to me for word. They were all young men of my age, in their early twenties or so. I simply nodded to them, a silent command for 'as you were'. Kenny, my closest remaining friend, emerged from the rest of the gang, leading me away from Tony and down a short hallway where most business was conducted. "In there?" I inquired, pointing to the door at the very end of the hall. He nodded, his dark curly hair falling in his face. "And a Maiden?" I wanted to know. He gravely nodded again. I swallowed, rested one hand on my brother's gun and opened the door. Inside I found a gruff and beaten member of our enemy gang, The Maidens. Looking not even over the age of twenty-one, he stood in the corner of the poorly lit, cramped room with chains binding his hands to the radiator. I approached him, coming within mere inches of his face, able enough to look fiercly into his eyes with the hatred that would burn eternally in my soul. We held a deathly stare against eachother before I came to glance down at his forearm. "I should cut your fuckin' arm off for that," I spat, referring his gang's symbol inked on his skin. "I don't know nuthin' you fuckin' pussy," he returned the disgust. I felt my body tensify with anger, my hand shooting out and grabbing his throat. "You know somethin' about my brother!" I tightened my grip with each passing second until his face became a beet red, making him urgently nod his head. Wanting to hear his answer, I let go. He coughed and gasped for breath several times. I waited. After having caught a normal heart rate, he looked deep into my eyes with a glowing maddness, "I know somethin' about your brother. I know he was a good for nuthin' little fuck that brought shame to your name." I was engulfed with rage at the sound of this comment, but hastily turned away from him and left the room. Kenny stood waiting in the hallway. "Count to twenty...and then kill him," were my orders. He held out his palm, wanting to use my brother's gun for the job, but I shook my head, "He's not worth it." I rushed through a side door and out into the parkinglot, mentally counting to myself. I stopped, holding my breath until the sound of a gunshot echoed around me. I tilted my head to gaze up at the gleaming heavens. "That one was for you, Tay."